I Thought I Was Fine
by wordspank
Summary: She doesn't know how she's lived for seventeen years as a human being and not died at least once in between. [Kol/Caroline]
1. Just A Scratch

**A/N: **Koroline is my crackship. So forgive me if I'm super indulgent with certain things.

* * *

"What happened to your arm?"

The real story is hard to stomach, but Caroline can't tell anyone that someone ripped through her forearm with a two-by-four without raising alarms. It was really meant for her head, but she caught the shadowed reflection off the framed photos perched on her fireplace mantel just in time to turn around and shield herself. She remembers the crack of hard lumber splitting over the point of her elbow, the searing pain of sharp wood digging into her skin as it dragged all the way to the bone of her wrist.

It hurt like a bitch. She spent the next hour picking splinters out of her wounds, but not before remarking to her assailant about what a huge jerk he was; her cousin Mike, the ridiculously boneheaded highschool slacktivist, had been invited to stay for a few days by her mother. And no, the dweeb said he couldn't recognize her.

She had far ruder words for him sitting on the tip of her tongue, but she wanted to keep it classy.

Caroline looks at the scabs sheepishly. Her healing isn't kicking in fast enough for this, and there isn't nearly enough blood she could drink to make it go any faster. At least without overdosing on the stuff anyway. Even vampires need time, she supposes.

The yellow cardigan she donned should have covered it up, but she didn't realize that it wasn't opaque enough to hide the dark claw-like cuts until she met Elena by the quad. Always with the sharp eye, that girl.

"I fell down," Caroline tries to sound convincing about it. She swats Elena's hand away and hurriedly rolls her sleeve back down so as to not draw any more attention – the girls from Campus Security Femme can get a little aggressive with their activism. "Just an accident." She frowns for effect. "Seriously."

Elena clearly doesn't believe her, but what matters is that she stops asking about it.

* * *

"Look," she shows off the lightened scar. "All healed up." Another couple of hours and the marks will fade into nonexistence, thanks to the extra helping of platelets she sipped in the morning. Caroline doesn't know how she's lived for seventeen years as a human being and not died at least once in between.

"That's not the point," Bonnie says, with that reprimanding look she gives whenever Caroline graces trouble. "What if it was me waiting around in your house?"

"Well, it wasn't you, and trust me, I want him out of here more than anyone else." Caroline rolls her eyes. "I have to share a bathroom with him."

Her best friend shoots her a disapproving frown. "You know that it's the least of your problems, right?"

Caroline answers defensively. "You've _never_ shared a bathroom with him."

And it's true, because he's the worst possible slob to live with. Doesn't put the seat back down. Uses her hand soap as body wash. Applies her ultra-hydrating moisturizer to the calluses of his feet. There's nothing more that she wants than to pull out his spine from the front but everyone will be jumping at her with their moral codes. _Oh, Caroline, you can't, he's only an innocent human being! They all grow up! The police department does not condone murder, young lady!_

Bonnie shakes her head, attributing Caroline's cousin woes to a case of minor territorialism, but still seeks confirmation that she's not in imminent danger. "Look, he may not be trying to kill you, but you have to tell your mom about what he did. You can always stay with me." This isn't comforting, but it's better than a recommendation to lock herself up in the old cellar hidden deep in the woods.

"Thanks for the offer," she says, "but I'm not about to leave my house full of luxury skincare alone with that monster."

"Don't hurt yourself," Bonnie replies, with just a little bit of sass. Caroline laughs and looks away.

Something odd falls into her line of sight. A figure, standing next to the lamppost a great distance away, somehow too still to be just a passing figment of her imagination and too out of place in the background scenery to ignore.

The hairs on the back of her neck rise at the possibility of being watched, but she isn't sure if it's just the psychology of being recently injured that's turning her slightly paranoid.

Whatever it is, the form disappears when she blinks, leaving nothing but an empty space where she thought she saw it staring.

"What?" Bonnie notices her sudden shift in mood.

Caroline chalks it up to a wild imagination paired with too much frustration over her cousin. "It's nothing," she half-assures, even though if it feels like something.

* * *

It comes out of nowhere.

First, she hears the air slicing with a swoosh. Then she looks down.

There's a bolt lodged in her gut.

The pain strikes her seconds later, and still astonished at the abruptness of it, she grits her teeth and extracts it from her body with both hands.

Caroline does a quick scan of her surroundings, but sees no one - she's alone in the gym, and it should be easy to catch the person doing this to her, given the lack of places a person can hide. But she can't detect any movement, even with the adrenaline kicking her senses into overdrive.

As sudden as the first, Caroline lets out a sharp cry that rings throughout the gym when the second quarrel pierces her shoulder from behind. She spins on her heel and spots him, leaping away with cat-like reflexes - Mike displays a great amount of fear and freezes in place after being seen.

Well this is awkward.

Nobody moves an inch or says anything, but there are definitely thoughts. For him, regretting being caught, and how he can save himself; for her, trying to come to grips with the fact that a member of the family has tried to murder her twice now. It doesn't look like he's going to stop anytime soon, either.

It's until she hears the nocking of a bow that she listens to her gut to flee. Not sparing another moment, Caroline speeds back home as quickly as she can to lock all the windows and doors in the house.

"Great," she mumbles to herself. With heavy feet, she clumsily makes her way to the refrigerator in the garage where rows of blood bags are piled on top of each other on every shelf. Taking in a lungful of icy air, she pulls the projectile from her body swiftly.

Ouch.

The bolt hits the ground with a clatter and Caroline slumps herself against the heavy frame, letting the wisps of cold air wrap around her body and soothe the open wounds.

Damn it. She's living under the same roof as a hunter. A slayer? Oh god, Mike is _male Buffy_. The first incident had not been as innocent a mistake as he'd made it seem.

That _loser_. Hunting her on her home turf.

She scoffs at the absurdity of the situation, snatching a bag of B+ from behind her head and taking a comforting bite. It may be cold, purified and clinical, but it still tastes of the life it once had been. The only thing that could top this would be if she sought it raw from the source.

Caroline tilts her head back and enjoys it to the last drop, letting it distract her from how pissed off she is over Mike's nosy antics. Then she reaches for a second helping.


	2. Unwanted Diagnosis

Vampirism isn't always about self-control for Caroline. It's about making people believe you have it. When you feel hungry, you need to glance at, not ogle, the jugulars of the people next to you. Never stare, unless they're not paying any particular attention.

It can get distracting when you're ravenous and the pattering of heartbeats begin to sound like a violent roar in your ears, but the trick is to breathe and count backwards from ten. Or if that doesn't work, then take a hike. Stefan used to get her out of the house to take her mind off the bloodlust.

Bloodlust, she huffs in disbelief. The struggle is nearly as terrible as her torrential relationship with carbs. Worse that she needs the blood to accelerate healing.

The walks are effective, though. This time she's taking a short stroll some streets down from Bonnie's home, where she's crashing in the meantime. Having gone through a shameful bout of stress eating - drinking?- when she guzzled six blood bags like a frat boy chugging beer at a kegger, the only way she can cool down is to stay away.

In the wee hours of the morning, the streets are cold and empty. The air vibrates with the chirp of crickets, and what's supposed to give Caroline tranquility has instead caused her to look over her shoulder more than once.

Thanks to Mike's ambush, her mind has set itself to high alert, paying attention to every detail possible that could hint at it happening again; the scrape of dry leaves blown by the breeze along the sidewalk; hearing an irregular beat of feet that doesn't quite match her own footsteps; a crawl up her back that feels like fingers but is only the wind tickling her-

She yelps when she collides with someone. Her first instinct is to reach for the person's arm, but she finds her wrists being seized before she can even twitch a muscle.

Caroline shouts her discontent at being bested and looks up to see Kol Mikaelson, who is absolutely bemused that she tried to accost him.

"Hey, pretty," he grins, not keeping his once over of her discreet at all. "What's a girl like you doing all alone here at this hour?"

She tries to wrestle away from him, but he's sickeningly strong. When she finally realises the futility of trying to escape, she narrows her eyes at him. "Have you been following me?"

Kol recoils, incredulous. "You flatter yourself," he says, loosening his grip. "I have my own business here."

Wrenching herself away, she nurses the newly formed welts at the heels of her palm. "The business of being a mental patient on the loose," she retorts, annoyance simmering. Bad enough that she can't physically overpower him. She's not going to spare him from the blade of her words.

Naturally, he does not appreciate the opinion. "It's none of _your _business," he corrects, at first delivered with a simple sneer, but then it dissolves into something more curious as his hand rises to cup the side of Caroline's cheek. It startles her, but she's so frozen in half-fear half-caution that the only thing that she can manage is a, "Do I have something on my face?"

Kol studies her weary eyes. _Please don't compel me, please don't compel me, _she screams through them. The last thing she wants is to have her freedom stripped from her again; this guy seems way more unrestrained with his Original abilities than the rest of his family.

"Why are you drinking so much blood?" he questions, thumb pulling down just under her eye to note the colour. She finds his sudden tender manner most unsettling, and the longer she remains in his grasp, the better she's able to discern what makes him undeniably attractive - deep set eyes framed by laugh lines, a strong, masculine jawline, and that unabashedly cheeky smile.

That's not good. With all of her willpower Caroline folds her arms and steps backward, reeling in the feelings while putting distance between the both of them. Just as she does with the blood.

Stop being shallow, Care. This guy is as dangerous as he is batshit crazy. Chiseled features aren't going to change that.

"Why do you care?" she asks.

"You're _hungry_. Your body's on a borderline frenzy." Then comes a wide grin. "Vampires are up for anything when they're..." His words trail away and his finger points to head, circling a point on his temple.

_Crazy,_ he's saying.

She is _not_ crazy. It's not like she's gone on a bender and sunk her teeth into anyone. She's appalled that he'd even suggest that she has so little control over herself.

"It's all in your eyes," says Kol, "All those tiny capillaries making ridges inside – you'd better stop, or you'll go on a rampage. Wouldn't want to mess up my plans now, do we?"

Mystery plans which she doesn't care about. "Well, I'm pretty sure that if I wasn't being hunted, I wouldn't need a supersized blood bag to keep my limbs attached."

"And who would want to hurt a little bird like you?"

Trouble is the last thing she wants, and talking about it is somehow more upsetting than being alone and shutting it out. "Nobody. I'm fine."

He's unconvinced. "There are ways for me to find out, you know. Besides," he smirks, "I like freeing little birds from their predicaments."

She pauses. "What are you expecting out of it? Your hand up my skirt? My heart?" It's meant to be acerbic, but when she actually hears it and envisions it, she starts to wish that she didn't open her mouth at all. It's the blood talking.

Kol chuckles. "You wouldn't want to give me those things. I wouldn't let go of a woman like you." Just the glint in his eye is enough to force a skip of life in her heart. "I'm as terrible as they come."

The worst thing about what he's saying is how paradoxical it is, warning her of the danger while oozing the magnetic charm she's supposed to stay away from. There's a small part of her that wonders what it would be like to be close to him. Her fingers itch with curiosity as her gaze sweeps downward from his hair line to his lips, neck to coat. Before she knows it, she's taken a quick glance of his crotch and mentally slaps herself for lingering.

You are_ not_ going to go there.

"It's my cousin. But don't hurt him, Kol." She tries to steer the topic somewhere else to ignore how self-conscious she feels about checking him out.

"He won't _die_. I'll just have a little fun." He leans closer. "Then _we_ can have our own sort of fun."

"You're insane _and_ sleazy." And despite knowing this, Caroline speculates every kind of fun there is to be had with a guy like him. _Oh god,_ she closes her eyes and the mild shame rises from her chest, _you're just as sleazy as he is._

"I meant with owing me a favour." A non-sexual one, he insinuates with his tone. He stops for a beat, beaming at her apparent gutter-brained notions. "Actually, I may have something for you to do. You can thank me after I've settled your problem."

She never asked for any help, but Kol doesn't seem to be the kind of guy who takes no for an answer.


	3. A Tiny Bite

About a week later, Caroline is pleased to be able to pull blood from the fridge, sip on a moderate amount slowly, and put it back. That's control right there. She gives herself an imagined pat on the back for remaining injury-free, but she just hopes that it's not because Mike is ten feet under concrete.

Kol meets her in an apartment, just on the edge of town where the folk hide themselves away and no one looks twice at anyone else. Keyword: shady. The only difference is that instead of keys in her fist, she's got fangs.

"Where is he?" she asks, hands on her hips.

He pours her a drink, which she chooses not to touch. "He'll be back."

The suspicion crawls up her back. "What did you do?" Silence launches her nerves into a panic. "I told you not to hurt him."

"He's alive," Kol assures. "You're here for something else. I'm calling in my favour."

"How do I know you're not lying?" He pulls the phone from his pocket and hands it to her. "I've texted and called him a million times. Don't you th-"

Impatient, he presses a couple of numbers and the contact name 5 shows up. "Hello?"

Caroline gawks at Kol in disbelief, swiping the phone and raising it to her ear. She grills Mike on his disappearance, listening for telltale signs of extreme distress. From lost appendages or starvation, maybe.

Mike only tells her that he can't speak to her any longer and that he's very sorry for hunting her vampire ass down. When she hears the sound of the receiver, she slouches.

Kol pries his phone gently from her fingers, proud of his handiwork. "Fear is a wonderful thing. Nothing puts fear in a man's heart like the sound of a power saw."

"You terrorized him," she guesses, unimpressed. Of course he would.

"He won't be bothering you again because I compelled him not to. The rest were just precautionary measures."

Precautionary. She doesn't like the sound of that. It's not really a consolation, but Caroline is nevertheless slightly relieved to know that no one has died. Not yet, anyway.

"So what am I doing here?"

Kol steps forward. "You're going to let me drink from you."

She gets up from her seat immediately. "I'm not-"

"You are, because I need the blood of another vampire for the spell." He mirrors her movement so she'll think twice about running. "Just this, and I'll be out of your hair."

The agitated blonde is gravely offended that she would be someone else's blood bag. "You cursed or something?"When he doesn't answer, she laughs out of bitter surprise. "You _are_ cursed. You're so cursed. You've got the magical version of an STD." Then it occurs to her. "You don't need me. You could go for any other vamp cruising town."

He doesn't want any other vamp. He's already picked her. It's obvious to anyone, but she thinks she's going to feel good hearing it directly from him.

Kol doesn't give her that satisfaction. "It'll be quick," he promises, "Just a little bite. Nothing life-threatening."

"...Knife," she indicates after a pause, somewhat considering its usefulness in a situation like this.

"No knife," he counters, to which she instinctively prepares herself to dodge. Until he taunts her. "Are you afraid of me?" He circles her like a predator, clearly trying to bait her into it.

It's working. She would never admit to being scared of Kol.

Biting her lip, she settles back down in the chair. "Get it over and done with."

Caroline tugs her sleeve up and offers her wrist to him, fist clenched tightly. She mentally prepares for the incoming sting of fangs, but fingers caress the path up her arm instead. The curve of her ear is traced with his breathing, and she feels the insistent press of his body into hers from behind as he nudges the fabric of her dress aside to expose more of her shoulder.

This is nothing, she tells herself. He's merely being opportunistic. It's totally normal for feeding to be part utility and part seduction.

Though, okay, she supposes that this is about 70% seduction because he doesn't have to lay a hand on any part of her at all for whatever bullshit curse he wants lifted. Unfortunately for Caroline, her body is responding - the very touch of him forms a warm knot in her abdomen and makes the air hitch in the pit of her lungs. When his lips graze her neck, her hand opens up and Kol slips his palm onto hers, sorely reminding her of just how long it's been since she's let anyone get this physical with her.

Too long.

Her skin finally breaks and she tenses. It's the smell of her own blood in the air that causes her to flinch, and Kol's grip turns vice-like when he senses her pulling away. Caroline swallows her noise of discomfort as he wraps his other arm around her waist to still her. While he continues drawing from her with deep pressure, it results in the most peculiar sensation skittering up and down her spine.

Initially, she finds it jarring, but the more he drinks, the more open she is to the idea of letting him really_ touch_ her.

"Relax, darling," he says, then affectionately paints a long line across his fresh mark on her with his tongue. "I'm almost done."

It evolves into well-placed kisses, followed by a gentle squeeze of her hand in his.

Kol eventually removes himself from her space, thumbing under his lip to taste her again. She reaches for tissues to pat down her wound, trying not to seem too affected by the whole experience, but too late - she reprimands herself silently for wondering if he was in it for more than just the blood. It should be obvious, but it's not.

On a scale of one to ten, she gives herself an _I don't want to think about his hands or mouth or what I think was against my ass_. Or how good he looks now, mussed, intoxicated, _starving._

Grabbing the glass full of scotch she previously rejected, Caroline tips her head back and lets out a steady breath.

By some sort of formality, Kol extends a hand as a gesture of appreciation, which is the last thing she expects because you don't just suck on someone's neck and say thank you.

It bothers her that she doesn't just want a handshake either.

Caroline stares at him, pondering his real intentions for the briefest moment. Then she chooses, with much difficulty, to ignore his silly display of primness. She disappears from his apartment quickly, at the same speed that her sanity had been lost when she let him bite her in the first place.

It was _exciting._


	4. The Only Broken Thing

How embarrassing.

She had travelled the scenic route through a clearing on her way home, just to bask in the moonglow and smell the crispness of nighttime air. She wanted time to herself.

So she walked, taking lighthearted steps and feeling particularly grateful for having an uneventful, normal type life on the supernatural front. Left in peace, and to her own devices.

Her only mistake was allowing herself to think that it would last. Otherwise she might have missed the bear trap.

She had tried to separate the bloodied jaws, but her hands blistered from the familiar burn of vervain and she let go. Bad idea.

Now she sits in the grass, steady vapor rising from her shin in smoky tendrils. She's got a seasoned threshold for pain, but this makes the top five on her list of most ridiculous sustained injuries. Extra points for being a total accident.

Looking for anything that could help her, Caroline attempts to limp over to a tree with the iron teeth still clamped down on her. Another terrible idea. It's too unbearable to carry the weight of it, and eventually she stops moving altogether because it seems like she might just sever it completely. Do vampires regenerate their lost limbs like lizards? She doesn't know. Peg legs aren't exactly nautical chic.

"Stupid!" she yells, hoping someone and no one will find her.

As if on cue, a passerby halts in his tracks and turns his head, intrigued. When she sees who it is, the urge to free herself shifts into high gear.

It just gets worse, doesn't it? Might as well run her over with a pickup and end it all now.

"My, my, look at that. Caught, are we?"

Kol, looking ever the sly fox, strides towards her. Caroline grimaces in both pain and humiliation as he crouches, observing her the way a little boy does before he takes an ensnared hare home to his mother for dinner.

"Laugh it up," she says, gesturing at him to not come any closer. "Go away. I can do this myself."

"Clearly," he says to her, waiting. "Please, do continue."

Her brow wrinkles, unhappy that he'd test her on it. Not one to favour appearing weak, Caroline takes a deep breath.

Flesh starts to hiss and the floral scent of vervain wafts upward as she garners all her strength to pull apart the mouth of the trap. It turns from fire to ice on her skin, and her arms are unsteady in their effort to split the teeth far enough for her to lift her leg out of it.

One of her hands slip.

Her eyes squeeze shut, expecting the loud snap of metal and bone to be the preface for her screaming, but it never comes. She sneaks a peek, only to discover that Kol is prying the device apart like he's cracking open a book. His hands are smoking, yet he appears to be relatively unaffected by it.

"Show off," she mutters, sliding away quickly. There's little relief in it, but at least she isn't trapped anymore. Kol lets the contraption go with a resonant clap of metal and she winces - imagine what that would've been like.

He stands, dusting his dark jeans off and sticks his hand out.

Caroline frowns. Does she owe him something else now?

Unfortunately for her, she's in no condition to walk, so she grudgingly accepts his help on the logic that sucking it up and having him aid her is far better than crawling home and chewing on someone for their blood. That leg's got to be broken in crazy places. And once the adrenaline wears off...

"Alright now darling, I'm here," Kol says, in a manner that's oddly endearing, suited more for a child with scraped knees. He lifts her, throwing her arm over his shoulder, and rests a palm on her hip for balance. "Point the way."

With a steadfast grip on the thigh of her own jeans, Caroline and Kol both haul her ass home. 

* * *

Kol doesn't have an invitation her house, so he sets her down on the old chair on her porch. On one knee he inspects the extent of her injuries before he tells her to wait for him.

As if she has any other choice.

He returns with a small number of things - most importantly, a warm mug of blood in tow, which Caroline accepts gratefully. The taste of it instantly gives away that it's fresh, but she isn't going to ask him about its source - he can keep it anonymous. Sometimes it's just better not to know things.

Kol plops down in front of her and carefully straightens her leg.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" She knows it's rhetorical, so she bites her tongue to stop the sarcasm from finding its way out of her mouth.

The gleam of a pair of scissors causes a tiny alarm. "Don't you dare."

Kol disregards her, defiantly tugging the denim taut at her ankle and snipping up to her knee. Caroline purses her lips. "You're never going to salvage these anyway," he comments, peeling it apart to reveal the full extent of her injury. Yeah, it's not pretty.

"Hold my hand." Caroline stares, apprehensive. But he seems to know what he's doing, so she sets her mug down and accedes. "Okay, don't be mad-"

Before she realises what's happening, he sticks one of his fingers in her shin and she screams. Hoarsely, until her voice nearly gives out because what in god's _name_ is he even thinking-

_Oh Jesus Christ._ It's so disabling that she can barely register anything else. The strain of her gritting teeth rides to her fingernails, a sharp nerve-chewing tension so strong that it may have jump-started her heart. Kol's lucky that he's got the strength to withstand her hand-crushing death grip, which, by the way, is doing nothing to tame the agony.

He wiggles his index to push something back into place; the tears are in free flow and the pain is so blinding that her loud protests of hurt sound more like choked, hysterical laughter. What she really means to say through the sobs is, _You fucking asshole_. She's probably gone through worse, but it's suffering all the same.

"Okay, you're okay," he says again, and Caroline gasps for air, more a coping mechanism than necessity as he removes his intrusive index from her. She feels his palm slip from her own, then his thumb meeting her wet cheek in an attempt to comfort. Ugh. No. That adoring gaze isn't helping. Okay, maybe it makes her feel a little better. Only a little.

Kol then produces a small square packet from his back pocket. Caroline doesn't even care what the slime in it is – the only thing that matters is that it's cool to the touch and the relief is instantaneous when he slathers it onto her calf.

Fishing rolls of gauze from the pocket of his coat, Kol bundles her up and rips the excess off. "You'd make a pretty good medic in the second world war," she says of his skill.

"I was in a box that era. Apparently I missed some fun times." Caroline watches him casually clean blood and mud off his fingers with the remainder of the dressing. "When you live this long, you pick up a few things. Underneath that," he nods at his handiwork, "is a little concoction of Aztec clay, nightshade, the beaks and wings of things."

"That's quite the recipe," she says, feeling a numbness fanning out from the main point of injury. The discomfort dissipates almost immediately - it's got to be magic. There's no other way this is working so fast.

"I didn't make any of it. It was given to me by a very… disciplined witch, some centuries ago. Strong, compassionate woman. Didn't let anyone stop her for anything."

Kol looks at her like he means to draw a similarity, but he says nothing. She does, however, sense a deeper, more sentimental history behind the words, which piques her interest because it points to a very real possibility that Kol had been, once upon a time, a one-woman, completely committed, love-struck monster. "Sounds like you were into kinda into her," Caroline prods.

"Maybe I was," he responds solemnly, tossing away soiled gauze. "We wandered together for a long time."

"And?"

"And that's it." The reply is curt, and slams the conversation into a brick wall. "We're not going to get into it." He gets up from his spot and dusts his hands off, ready to leave.

Caroline glares. She doesn't like the way he cuts her off.

"We're going go into it," she starts. "We're going to go into it because you show up out of nowhere after weeks of radio silence. And then you make me a tourniquet for my mincemeat self. And _then_ you expect me to be okay with your Mr Mystery routine." It's stupid, really. The more she thinks about it, the tougher it is for her to stave her rising temper.

"_And when you bit me-_" _Yes, Care, you bring that up too,_ "-you just what? Shake my hand? I let you drink the blood straight from my neck and I don't even get asked for a frickin' coffee. So yeah, I deserve to know a little of the man I'm talking to, with minimal bullshit."

"I have no obligation to sit around and discuss who I loved or didn't love a million years ago," Kol replies, just as annoyed. "Did you want a date out of all of this? Is that why you're mad?

"Or did you just want to have sex?"

Her anger fizzles instantly. In her head, Caroline is covering her hands with her face. No, she's crawling under her thickest duvet, the deepest grave, and living there for all eternity.

Oh god. He's picked up on it, hasn't he? Her weakness for good bone structure; the accent. And how she can't help but be drawn to his allure, that deceivingly winsome grin under the deep pools of darkness in his eyes. Doomed. She's doomed.

Kol shakes his head. "I'm not daft, Caroline. I've seen the way you look at me."

The blonde vampire frowns hard, trying to physically suppress a hot flush from colouring her head to toe, bashful all of a sudden. She wants to look away, but the truth in his words will be deathly obvious. "You think I don't _know_ what you want?" Kol bends, moving his face closer to hers so that there's nowhere else for her to turn. "I could smell it on your skin. Taste it in my mouth. I could've slid my fingers under your dress and I _know_ that I would've found you absolutely _soaked_ for me. And I'd have gone for it.

"But going down that road is lunacy. Love is lunacy."

Taken aback, Caroline folds her arms. "Who says I'm going to_ love_ you?"

"Do you honestly think that we would be a one-time thing? Just jump into bed and be done with it?" A sardonic smile spreads across his face. "You know I'd never let that happen. I'd keep you, and destroy you; I'd end up breaking you in half. And it'd be such a pity to wreck a beautiful thing." Because he's just that type of guy, who fucks you and kisses you and offends you and loves you all at the same time, unwilling and unable to respect the boundaries and labels that she'd typically assign to a casual relationship.

This is his warning to her. "The sex would've been great, though," he adds, like he's thought about it _that_ many times to be sure. Caroline is tongue-tied for the moment, absorbing his meaning and assessing the gravity of the hole she's managed to dig herself into.

Kol steps off the porch. "Another twenty minutes and you can take that off." She stares at him. "The wrap." He gestures at her leg.

She ignores it. "...You don't know me." The words come slowly, because she's thinking aloud, attempting to understand what he's trying to do and say by pushing her away and reeling her in all at once. "You act like you do. You think you can do anything you want."

"I could say the same to you," he counters.

"I'm not that reckless."

Finding it ludicrous, Kol snorts. "You're the one who let me bite you." He ends with a playful nip of his teeth in her general direction. "I suppose we'll have to start getting familiar with each other, then."

There's no doubt that the encounter leaves her perturbed, but as the older vampire steps away and disappears into the dawn, Caroline can't help but feel that she'd just sat through a very long-winded invitation to... sleep with him? Date him? She isn't even sure. She was too busy fighting mental images of his feral touch, gliding and tracing and curious.

It's not the proposition itself that boggles her mind, paradoxical as it had been. The fact that it doesn't drive her away, even if it opens pandora's box of Mikaelson-branded insanity - it scares her, because it means he could be right.

She might be reckless, but it could be worth it.


	5. Hurts Me More Than You

You want him, you have to love him. Because that's what he's going to do to you. And it could be your death.

Caroline has spent days torturing herself. She wants to hide out in her room and never see the light of day again, classes be damned. How do you even talk about it? Who do you even say it to? Instead she chooses to go window shopping, or makes lists. Lists and lists, on post-its and notebooks and Evernote files. Anything to parry all thoughts to do with the night of the bear trap.

There are times when she's talking to someone and it rests heavy on her tongue, ready to slip out and into the ears of someone else. She wants to sit down and have someone grab her shoulders and give her a hard shake. Have them tell her that her interest in Kol is unconscionable. It could be Matt, throwing down a dishcloth and pep-talking her through the list of big cons. It could even be Damon, who'd most likely call her an idiot. _Just tell me that I'm crazy._

She feels crazy.

The thing is, every time she's about to part her lips and let the truth run free, something stops her from taking the leap. It's beyond the fear of having to deal with the judgment and cutting opinions of her friends.

Caroline actually wants to have a go at Kol.

Somehow the idea of loving him as a consequence doesn't intimidate her as much as it should. Nobody will let her do it if she confides in them. So... Secret it is.

Kol texts her on a Friday night, which makes her weary of the intention behind it. _Not going out? _

She only responds after doing the dishes. Nothing drives people crazier than a read-but-unattended text. No.

The phone buzzes shortly after. _Do you want company? _

Her thumb hovers over the N on the screen, considering. Then she sets it down, staring until it goes dark with idleness.

What she wants is far from healthy. This isn't something she's willing to deal with at the moment, even if she's on the cusp of something.

A chime fills her house. Her mother's voice projects from the broom closet. "Could you get the door?"

Caroline glances at the counter again, where her cell rests. No way. He wouldn't dare.

Her mom calls out again, this time less amiably. Playing the filial child, Caroline takes slow steps toward her front door, pausing with her fingers on the handle. She tells herself not to let anyone see him, no matter what he says or does, lest he receive an invitation. And then she opens the door.

It's not him. Her arms fold. "...Mike?" Caroline looks at the large duffel slung over his shoulder, grey and much too full for swinging by to say hi.

Her cousin smiles and nudges his way past her. "Yo."

"You're… back," she trails off, noting his spritely step. For someone whose bits had been uncomfortably close to a power saw, this is more than disturbing behaviour.

"I am," he replies, "Sheriff home?" Caroline calls for her loudly, and her mom appears with a rag in hand.

"Mikey," she addresses him, surprised, and also noticing his choice of baggage. "Did you need a place to stay?"

"Uh," he looks around uneasily, "You asked me to crash with you guys for awhile?"

Liz cocks her head back and wrinkles her nose at the detail. Her daughter, on the other hand, is much quicker in adding things up, and when the pieces start to fit, she feels a deep roiling start in the pit of her stomach.

"I asked him," Caroline volunteers falsely. "Again. 'Cause, y' know, yay to hanging out and stuff." Her mother regards her with narrowed eyes, then asks her to place fresh towels in the guest bedroom. Young Forbes races towards a more isolated part of the house, tugging Mike by the arm as fast as humanly possible.

At the laundry area, she halts, spinning to face him. "You were here more than a couple of weeks ago. Do you remember that?"

"What? No," he replies incredulously. "Last time I was here was like, in middle school." He grimaces at her arm still on his, and she relents, knowing that he's completely unfamiliar with the fact that she's a vampire. "Is it your time of the month or something? You're so freakishly strong."

"Ugh, shut up," she snaps. "Didn't Kol tell you to stay away?"

"Who?"

She stares at him. It concerns her how genuinely clueless he seems.

Caroline searches her cousin's eyes. "You don't know," she says in reference to his attack on her, and rushes back to the counter to retrieve her cell.

_I'm coming over,_ she types, her thumbs frenetic in their jabbing, then informs her mum of the sudden errand she needs to run at Bonnie's for awhile.

But she's going to kick Kol's ass. Won't take more than an hour.

* * *

"Hey," Kol greets. His shirt sleeves are rolled up above his elbows and Caroline notices the waning arc of muscle there before she shoves him as hard as she can. "Whoa," he exclaims. "Don't need to get handsy, darling, I haven't even offered you a drink yet."

"What's your game?" She pushes him again. "What's your game?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Caroline knows he's prepared for another hit, so she throws him off by striding over to his tiny, open kitchen in three easy steps and fetches a knife from its block.

"Do you know how stupid it is to be bullshitting me right now?"

Kol looks at the weapon, unalarmed. "You know that can't hurt me."

She twirls it in her hand. "Oh, you _know_ I can make it hurt. Especially when I'm home, and I see Mike, and he has no recollection whatsoever of nearly killing me or who you are. And I thought, who's the only other vamp in the entire universe that knows anything about this and could possibly brainwipe my cousin into oblivion?"

Leaning on the counter, the Original vampire cracks a faint smile. "I didn't compel him again." Kol moves forward and Caroline feels his hand curve around her knife-wielding one when she raises it up in defense. "He just reset."

Reset? "Excuse me?"

"When he was done," he tightens until his knuckles go white, "he went back to the way he was before I met him. Now let's put this down."

She swallows a deep breath and says very slowly, "Done with what?"

Kol doesn't have to say it for her to know the answer. She only has to look at his face up close to see the knowing gleam in his eye. "Helping me see what you're made of. I suppose I should've killed him instead. An oversight."

It takes a second for her to realize what he's saying. "You're psycho."

Completely. Utterly. A chill passes through her, thinking of every instance that she might have thought was thanks to Mike, but had really been Kol,watching, waiting. Testing her waters.

"Oh, don't be like that," he says of the look on her face. "You're quite the specimen."

Caroline tries to budge, but his thumb is resting on a spot of her wrist that she has no doubt will snap if he applies the right pressure. So in a moment of pure strategy, she loosens her grip to let him take the knife from her and lay it on the counter where it's not quite in reach.

"I knew it." Checking her eyes on the first night and helping her, and the bear trap; that was all smoke and mirrors. "The trap," she says aloud, the ghost snap of cold metal causing her to wince. "Even the trap."

He chuckles. "No, that was all you, I swear," he says, as if swearing now counted for anything.

Both her hands press to her hairline as she tries to come to terms with the revelation. "Why would you even do this?" The more she thinks about it as Kol having fun at her expense, the more pissed off she gets. 'You could've killed me, and you lied to me. Here I was, looking at you with your stupid hair, in your stupid shirt with the-" she gesticulates wildly at his arms, unable to find the right descriptors for how excellent they look, "-thinking, hey, maybe missing the rerun marathon of The Bachelor is going to be worth it."

She's the stupid one. Ugh.

Kol shakes his head. "Don't tell me that you were so naïve to think that I could've _never_ lied to you. I was just about to say how impressed I was."

Caroline isn't interested in his opinion of her. "So did you? Lie bout everything?" Her mind flits to his unwillingness to divulge his history. Was it a sensitive topic, or had he run out of creative inspiration? And all the things that he did to make sure he stayed in her head. Can a person fabricate_ chemistry_?

"Sometimes it takes a bit of truth to spin the best stories."

This makes her eyes roll. "Spare me the cheese."

Kol's steely expression doesn't budge. "Whether I lied or not, you know one thing is real - you want me to want you."

Caroline opens her mouth to counter it, but fails to grasp the words. She isn't sure if it's because it sounds so heinously pompous or it's kind of, sort of, maybe... true.

"Well, you don't have to say anything. It's all in the eyes." He glances at her mouth. Then he returns to her blues. She takes the time to study him as well, his parted lips, heavy lids.

She sees it. Feels it. You can't manufacture this kind of attraction.

"So what's your analysis, Kol?" She purposely draws out his name with a curl of her tongue, both antagonistic and coy.

"More of advice, really." He leans closer, and Caroline starts to catch the warm scent of spice on his skin. "Don't cage yourself up anymore. Live a little. Be bad. You might explode one day if you keep it all inside, you know. And I'm not going to be the one to reel you in, because, well... that wouldn't be fun, would it?

"You're a _vampire_, as dark as they come. And you love the danger the same way you love me." Fingers pick at the blonde locks on her shoulders.

"I don't love you." She looks down, but doesn't recoil from him.

Kol tilts her chin upward. "You're already halfway there."

She lets herself pour all her feelings into it when he kisses her, blood rising as his tongue slides along her lower lip and she returns it with a gentle lick of her own. The ache begins to well up inside, the same way her cravings start to roar.

God, it's been awhile. A long while. She feels a hand drag from her neck, down her chest and plant on her hip, and just having him tease her mouth is making the idea of her ripping his shirt apart and climbing on top of him so very, very appealing.

Too bad her hatred of being lied to is way headier than her lust. Caroline uses her weight to move him backwards and pin him against the counter to deftly slip her fingers around dark wood.

The sharp length of cold steel plunges into the small of Kol's back, but that's not quite enough – she wiggles the blade and pulls it diagonally across to his shoulder, letting the smell of blood permeate the air. It's evident from his abruptly cut yelp that she hit something important.

He'll live.

Her lips meet the corner of his open mouth of pure shock. Or is it pain? Maybe both. "Don't be like that," she softly says to him, "I'm only letting off a little steam."

Kol slides down to the floor when she releases him, annoyed grimace fixed on her. Crouching, Caroline's tongue darts out to clean the speckles of his blood off her hand, unapologetic in nearly nicking his thumb when she tosses the knife at him.

"Next time," she says, "just ask me out on a date."


End file.
